cat 'verse
by onceuponaplot
Summary: For all that he's tiny, the cat feels like he weighs as much as a sack of bricks when he jumps onto Steve's bed in the mornings. Steve might be a little biased in his judgment, but it's really the cat's fault. If he didn't land on Steve's gut and knock the wind out of him every time he jumped up Steve'd be a lot more forgiving. / pre-serum steve & fluff
1. feline

_Originally posted in November 2014 as part of a 30 day writing challenge on Archive of Our Own._

* * *

All Steve can think of at first is how small it is. His next thought is to wonder why it's there, not that he has to wonder long.

Bucky opens his eyes when Steve shuts the door, and his grin is lopsided and apologetic.

"It's freezing out," Bucky says, hand still scratching idly behind the kitten's ears. "And it was crying. I couldn't just leave it out there, Stevie."

Steve crouches down, reaches out to run a hand down the kitten's back. It blinks its eyes open at Steve's touch and yawns, stretches from where it's curled on Bucky's chest. Steve gets a peek at tiny teeth and a pink mouth before it tucks its face back into the folds of Bucky's shirt. Steve's mouth curls into a smile of its own volition when the kitten starts to purr.

"Buck…"

"Just until it warms up outside, Steve. It's too little for a winter like this."

Bucky pouts and widens his eyes, curls his hand protectively around the cat on his chest. Steve can't resist Bucky when he looks at him like that any more than Bucky can resist a stray, and he sighs heavily.

"Shove over," Steve orders. Bucky shifts carefully but the kitten still gets jostled and it lifts its head to watch them with golden eyes as Steve positions himself next to Bucky on the couch. Steve makes himself comfortable, rests his head on Bucky's shoulder. Reaches out and scratches under the kitten's chin.

It closes its eyes in bliss and purrs even louder; Steve takes a moment to admire how soft the cat's mottled grey fur is under his fingers.

"I guess we could keep it until spring," Steve says a while later. They've shifted again – Steve's tucked under Bucky's arm with the cat curled up on his chest – and he's warmer and more comfortable than should be possible on their old couch in the middle of a New York winter. "Gonna need a name, though."

"Mhmm," Bucky murmurs against Steve's temple, drowsy and soft. "We'll think of somethin'."

The kitten makes a sleepy noise then, half sigh and half chirp as it wiggles until it's stretched out in the dip where Steve and Bucky's sides meet.

Steve nods, closes his eyes. They've got time.


	2. sparkle

For all that Harvey's tiny, the cat feels like he weighs as much as a sack of bricks when he jumps onto Steve's bed in the mornings. Steve might be a little biased in his judgment, but it's really the cat's fault. If he didn't land on Steve's gut and knock the wind out of him every time he jumped up Steve'd be a lot more forgiving.

Even as it is, Steve can never bring himself to be angry for long. Not with the way the kitten immediately curls up on the center of his chest and purrs loud enough to wake the entire block.

It's hard not to give into that, even if it means Steve inevitably gets woken up in the wee hours of the morning when Harvey decides it's time to begin snuggling.

As far as he can tell, Harvey doesn't do this to Bucky and Steve takes a strange pride in being the kitten's chosen resting place.

Steve's therefore confused when he wakes up one morning at half past five without the kitten plodding around on his sheets. For all that it's annoying to be dragged awake so early, Steve's actually grown accustomed to his new bedmate.

It takes a minute of sleepy investigation to spot the twitching curtains and Steve hauls himself from bed with a quiet, "Harvey, bud, what are you doing there?" like the cat's going to answer him somehow.

He's actually surprised when the kitten chirps and pokes his head back through the curtains. Steve's surveyed by bright gold eyes for a moment before the cat retreats back to the window, the tip of his tail all that's left visible.

Steve crosses the room and peeks through the curtain himself.

Harvey stands on his back paws as the front press to the window glass. His eyes, reflected in the window, are huge.

Big, fat flakes of snow drift down from the sky, the first of the season, and Steve can't help but grin. Harvey is completely enraptured as he watches the flakes glitter and sparkle in the moonlight, barely even moves when Steve scratches between his ears.

He chuckles when the kitten meows and paws at the window. Laughs a little louder when those big eyes are turned on him once again as if to ask "Why isn't that in here so I can play with it?"

"Come on, cat," Steve murmurs after a few more moments watching the snow, carefully picking Harvey up and cradling him against his chest. "I know your first snow's exciting, but it's late, and I gotta sleep so I don't fall asleep at work tomorrow."

The kitten mews as Steve carries him over to the bed but doesn't leave when he's placed down. He waits until Steve's back under the covers to curl up by Steve's shoulder. Harvey's tail twitches against Steve's neck for maybe five minutes before the kitten goes still; tiny snores fill the room soon after and Steve settles himself further beneath the blankets and smiles.

Harvey wakes him up by sitting on Steve's throat and rubbing his face all over Steve's chin an hour later.


End file.
